


Into My Arms

by Angryangryowl



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fainting, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Sickfic, Slight Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: Maybe the room where Oswald is giving his speech is a little too warm. Maybe a heavy winter coat was a bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonwalkingCrab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/gifts).



> For the prompt 'You fainted straight into my arms. You didn't have to go to such extreme measures to get my attention.'

It's too warm in here. A good few degrees above comfortable room temperature. City hall makes the same mistake as most large public buildings in the winter, cranking the heat to high and forgetting that most people entering will remain in their winter coats.

 

Ed has made this mistake himself. Stupid, really. He keeps a practiced, beatific smile fixed on his face. There's not enough room to move here on the stage. Oswald is reaching the dramatic final lines of his speech.

 

_ Ed has heard these words echoing through the mansion corridors at night. _

 

_ Oswald paces, addressing the most important points to the bored faces in the dusty oil paintings. _

 

_ Sometimes he’ll call out commentary from his chair by the fireside _

 

_ ‘More conviction’ _

 

_ ‘Louder, make them believe it!’  _

 

_ And finally ‘Perfect!’ _

 

_ He relishes the way Oswald smiles when Ed praises him. The crinkles at the sides of his freckled nose that form, the ones that make Ed smile himself. The way he murmurs ‘Thank you’, too soft and entirely too close, close enough that Ed could step boldly into his space and kiss him. Close, warm, sweet and slow, like he has wanted to for a long time. _

 

_ Perhaps he imagines, but Oswald is gazing at Ed like he'd like that. _

 

This situation is far from ideal. Besides a vest, shirt and wool suit, he has a heavy wool coat and scarf on, and the oppressive heat of the room is starting to prickle up his neck. There's no space to take the coat or suit jacket off. His smile begins to slip at one corner of his mouth. His brain feels overheated, foggy. His thoughts, usually too fast to maintain any sort of inner monologue, have slowed to a slightly panicked crawl. His pulse flutters somewhere under his collarbone, sweat beads on his forehead, and Oswald, stood a couple of feet in front of him, suddenly seems very far away.

 

Oswald speaks the last word (‘...together!) With a flourish, reaching back for Ed’s hand to raise it to their adoring public. He gestures impatiently for Ed to hurry up.

 

Ed’s brain attempts to send the impulse to his shoulder, arm, fingers, to reach for the offered gloved hand. But his body doesn't seem very receptive. He opens his mouth, meaning to say something. And with a soft ‘oh..’, he faints.

 

He comes round, it can't be more than a few seconds later. He opens his mouth before his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath laced with Oswald’s cologne and floor polish. Nausea lurches in his belly, someone is tapping, no  _ patting _ , his face, willing him into consciousness. 

 

Ed hears half a conversation, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

‘Loosen his tie, he’s sweating-’ A woman’s voice, quickly swatted away.   
  


‘I'll see to that’ Oswald’s voice is strained, snappy with panic.

  
‘Mr. Mayor, Mr. Cobblepot, what should I tell them?’

 

Oswald’s answering hiss of ‘Get them  _ out.’  _ stirs pride in Ed, somewhere among the rolling nausea.

 

Even with his eyes closed, everything seems too bright and too loud. His senses gradually return, slowly muting the world around him to a more acceptable volume. People are shuffling away towards the doors, whispering and gossiping amongst themselves.

 

The wool fabric under his cheek isn't scratchy at all, he muses inside his head. Oswald wouldn't buy anything but the best. His head, and some of his upper body, is apparently cradled in Oswald’s lap. Careful hands unbutton his coat, loosen his scarf and tie around his neck to allow the mercifully cool air onto his skin

 

He opens his mouth to politely ask to be put down, but his stomach protests.

 

‘Ed? Please-’ Oswald mumbles close, the sharp tang of his cologne somehow reassuring, the pad of his thumb smooth and cool across Ed’s cheek.    
  
‘I’m here.’ Ed murmurs, opening one eye ‘What-?’   
  
‘You fainted.’ Oswald explains, stumbling over the words, but he’s smiling now. ‘Right into my arms, as it happens. You d-didn’t have to go to such extreme measures to get my attention.’   
  
There’s flicker of uncertainty in his eyes for a second, like he’s not quite sure his joke will be well-received.   
  
‘Too many layers, I think. I’ll be alright in a moment. But...thank you for catching me.’ His own fingers settle over Oswald’s on his cheek. His eyes are greener in this light, he muses as they come into focus. They are still wide with alarm, and there’s a slight nervous tremor in the hand under his own. He squeezes it gently.

  
Ed is helped to a chair, and eventually out of the building into a waiting car, gracefully brushing off offers of further help. Settling into the back seat, he leans back against the cool leather with a long sigh of relief, closing his eyes. It’s unusual for him to lounge like this, usually his long limbs take careful arrangement and his back stays proudly straight. But he’s suddenly so tired, he lets his entire body slump into the seat.   
  
‘You know I employ at least two people who would have held your coat for you.’ Oswald quips.   
  
‘Like you said’ Ed mumbles, turning his face to look up at Oswald and half-smiling ‘How else would I get your attention?’   
  
Oswald’s eyebrows knit, concerned, and he’s thoughtful for a second before speaking. ‘You have it. You always have had. Don’t you know that?’   
  
‘But I..’    
  
Whatever he was about to say dies on his tongue. Because Oswald doesn’t mean as his chief of staff, as his closest friend and ally. He means  _ that.  _ The love Oswald had confessed to him before. The love he’d been to stupid, too blind, too stubborn to return. Everything he now sees reflected back at him in those anxious green eyes.   
  
He takes Oswald’s hand, carefully twining their fingers together.   
  
‘I know. You have mine. My uh-’ He squeezes his eyes shut, cursing himself for hesitating.    
  
Oswald is still staring back at him, anxious, waiting, but somehow mournful, as though he has already told himself this won’t be good news.   
  
‘My heart.’ Ed finally finishes, squeezing his fingers gently.   
  
‘Really?’ He’s still cautious, ready to drop Ed’s hand or turn away.   
  
‘Really. Sincerely. I’m sorry it took me so long. I am..ridiculous I know.’   
  
A smile finally spreads across Oswald’s face, crinkling the freckles at the bridge of his nose as Ed shuffles closer, pressing their thighs together and gathering him near ‘Forgive me..’   
  
Oswald doesn’t answer, only lifts his chin to press a first hopeful kiss to Ed’s mouth.


End file.
